


Marko's New World

by ErzsebethBatoriova



Series: Thirty Minutes [4]
Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Santa Carla (Lost Boys), Vampires, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErzsebethBatoriova/pseuds/ErzsebethBatoriova
Summary: Marko recovers from Edgar's stake attack and finds himself in a whole new world.





	

Something was wrong.

At first, Marko thought it was due to the fact that he remained in the cave for so long while body slowly recovered from the stake wound. His senses were muddled, he was slowly re-awakening, and he hadn't been able to leave the elevator shaft by himself. He remained in the darkness where he originally fell, feeding off of the small animals that crawled within his reach. The last real source of blood he received was from David, before David, Dwayne, and Paul went to seek revenge for the sneak attack by the Frog Brothers.

That was ages ago.

Marko faded in and out of consciousness, but instincts kicked into gear whenever something "living" came close. He had to feed. He reached out and snatched it, where he bore his fangs into it, draining it completely dry. Animal blood was weak compared to human blood, but blood was blood so long as it was fresh. He also stopped counting the days and nights, simply allowing his body to heal as best as it could.

At long last, he was able to stand on his own and make his way out of the elevator shaft and into the hotel lobby that he and the Lost Boys occupied when they weren't asleep or raising hell outside.

Marko stood by David's wheelchair and listened for the sounds of life, and was perplexed by finding nothing other than rolling waves of the oceans smashing against the cliffsides and rocks outside. Tilting his head back, he noticed that none of his pigeons were around, which was very unusual. By this time they should be asleep, and at least one of them would acknowledge him. He also saw the lack of usage from the oil barrels. They were typically lit every night, but the barrels were stone cold to the touch and there was nothing inside of them to indicate any use by anyone. A light film of dust settled over much of their heavily used belongings, such as the couches and Paul's rockbox. Even the blood bottle that idiot Michael broke was filthy, its pieces still scattered on the floor.

Marko frowned. He didn't like what he was finding.

Carefully he trudged up the stone steps of the cave until he reached the outside, where he was greeted by the salty ocean winds. Without missing a beat, he made his way up the old, creaking wooden stairs until he arrived at the top of the cliff. Almost immediately he caught the sight of the boardwalk in the distance.

Or rather, what was left.

Not a single light could be seen anywhere in the park. Part of the rollercoaster track that consisted of the Giant Dipper had been destroyed, possibly by fire. Bodies were scattered along the beach, all of them not moving. In fact, there were no lights lit anywhere in that part of town. Building windows were either heavily boarded up or shattered for someone or something trying to get in. Some of the walls were covered in various graffiti, and one of them had the words "GOD HATES US ALL." In the greater distance, he could see pillars of smoke rising from the treetops of the Santa Carla mountains. The sound of traffic was absolutely void.

Marko sniffed the air and nearly gagged. It was a foul stench, rather toxic, and he couldn't help but cover his nose with a gloved hand. He couldn't remember ever smelling anything that bad before. Even the bodies of his victims didn't reek so intensely.

What the fuck happened around here?

The sound of paper crinkling caught his attention. He watched as a piece of newspaper slapped against his knee. He snatched it off of him and was greeted with a large black text headline which read:  **"THE DEAD WALK THE EARTH."**

A vicious, deep growl emanated from the Lost Boy's throat.

"Just fucking great," he complained as he detected low, pathetic moans that carried in the wind, followed by a desperate, shrilled scream. Before Marko could even attempt to pinpoint where the noise came from, the screaming abruptly stopped, and it was followed by the sound of wet, munching of flesh. Furiously he crumpled the newspaper into a ball and threw it over the cliff's edge, where it was carried to the ocean below.

"So now I'm going to have competition for food around here?!" he snapped testily. Screw that! He and his brothers were on top of the food chain, and no dead head zombie was going to take away what belonged to them. These humans, in particular their blood, was for THEM and nobody else! No damn vampire hunters, no meddling outsiders – nothing was going to stop them from claiming what was rightfully theirs.

Marko hurried over to where the bikes were stored just a few yards away. Thankfully nobody touched their wheels, let alone discovered where they were, for however long he was in the cave. He watched enough movies involving some kind of apocalypse to know that resources would be scarce once others were aware of them. And while he COULD fly, seeing as how it was a faster mode of transportation, he decided he needed to preserve his energy. Gas could always be syphoned later on. His main concern was to find an uninfected human he could drain empty, and then find the rest of the Lost Boys.

"Let's see what kind of bullshit is waiting for me out there," Marko announced as he fired on the ignition switch and was soon speeding away from Hudson's Bluff, into an unknown future infested with the walking dead.


End file.
